


Burning the Midnight Oil

by starhawk2005



Series: Lab!Smut [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Het, Lab!Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Cam and Lab!Smut. PWP, in other words. In terms of canon timeline, this fic is taking place between ‘Mob Rules’ and ‘Heavy’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning the Midnight Oil

**Author's Note:**

> Special Thanks: To Starhubby for beta’ing  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Gregory House, which is probably a good thing, because if I did I’d probably keep him locked in a basement room until I wanted him and there’s probably some law against that, even in Canada. He belongs to Fox and the producers and writers of House, M.D. Don’t own Allison Cameron, either. Don’t sue, cuz I gots nothing *scurries back into her cave*

_“Everyone likes you.”_

_“Do you?...I have to know.”_

 

_“No.”_

He had felt pretty crappy – to his surprise – about having to lie to her, but what other choice had she left him? They’d been standing in the middle of a hallway, for Chrissakes, and anyone could’ve overheard. And he didn’t want anyone at PPTH to realize that Greg House was not as much of an iron-clad bastard as he appeared. _I have a reputation to uphold,_ he told himself. Not to mention she was his subordinate, and Vogler was already gunning for an excuse to get rid of him. So a public declaration of any ‘liking’ would surely have been noticed by the PPTH gossips and funneled back to Mr. Big-Ass-Billionaire.

But it _had_ been a lie. And he was sure _she_ knew it had been a lie, but like most women he had been involved with in the past, she needed to _hear_ the words spoken. He shook his head to himself as he limped down the hallway. _Like her?_ He scoffed sarcastically to himself. _Why would I like her? She’s_ only _intelligent, a good doctor, beautiful, and she actually cares about me. The first woman to care in….I don’t want to think about how long. How could she think that I wouldn’t like her?_

 

It was 2:14a.m. at PPTH. He’d been in his office, reading textbooks and searching databases, trying to piece together more of the puzzle that their latest case presented. But even a tough old bastard like him eventually needed to sleep – as much as he _could_ sleep, anyway - so he was heading home.

He’d always preferred working late in the evening, when the PPTH halls were all but empty. Hell, by this point in the day (night), even the janitors had finished. The nurses on the wards were still around, of course, making their rounds, but the office areas were almost totally devoid of people, and that was how he liked it.

 

As he passed the lab areas on his way out, however, he saw that this time he was not alone. Cameron was in one of the labs, peering into a microscope. She seemed totally unaware of his presence, so he paused and studied her for a moment. Dark hair pinned up in a bun, her pale skin glowing even in the dim lighting of the lab, the ever-present lab coat, the red sweater and black skirt….

 

And that’s when it occurred to him. This time, no one was around. No one to observe him and Cameron together. Which didn’t mean he was going to march in there and say that he liked her, but he bet he could _show_ her…. _Don’t move, Dr. Cameron,_ he thought at her, before turning around and heading back the way he had come, in search of what he would need.

 

Allison Cameron winced, rubbing her tired eyes and trying to stretch the kinks out of her back. And as soon as she was no longer concentrating on the task at hand, her mind kept going back to that damn question: “Do you?”

 

 _I am such an idiot,_ she thought. She had already done one foolish thing by allowing herself to fall in love with her boss. A boss that hated people. A boss that did his best to be emotionless and detached at all times. Never mind that he was brilliant, that he did all he could to help his patients, that there was something undeniably sexy about him, even in his 5 o’clock shadow and rumpled clothes, even in his constant pain, even with his cutting sarcasm.

 

But then she had compounded her error by not only letting him know how she felt, but by making herself sound like a totally dependent child in the process. _“I have to know.”…God!_ she thought to herself, mortified all over again. _Yeah, coming across as a total kid, that’d turn House on for sure…not._

 

 _Enough,_ she told herself firmly, and started to bend over the eyepiece of the microscope again. Maybe she could redeem herself somewhat in House’s eyes (and her own), if she could figure out some essential clue to their newest case. Maybe.

 

Just as she was starting to focus again, she heard the lab door open behind her, the unexpected noise making her jump. She glanced back over her shoulder, and realized her visitor was none other than the man himself.

 

 _Just what I needed,_ she thought sarcastically to herself. Turning back to the microscope and pretending to be completely engrossed in her specimen, she greeted him merely with a “Dr. House.” in a neutral tone.

 

“Dr. Cameron.” he replied back, but there was an edge in his voice that she couldn’t identify. She heard him a take a step closer. “Burning the midnight oil?”

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t charge you overtime.” she quipped.

 

He didn’t answer, but she heard him take a few more steps, his cane thumping on the floor, and realized that only a step or two still separated them. _God,_ she thought, remembering the weak-kneed rush she’d gotten a few days ago, when they’d been treating the mafioso patient and House had stepped up right behind her in one of the labs. Even with Foreman looking on, right after he’d been teasing her about this very thing, she’d been unable to keep herself from responding to House’s nearness. Her knees had trembled momentarily, her voice had rasped, and her stomach had been full of butterflies – damn Foreman. Luckily she’d managed to get herself in order quickly, to respond to Foreman’s “How’s your tummy?” query, but it was still disturbing how quickly and viscerally she responded to her boss.

 

And as this last thought was crossing her mind, he did move up behind her. She was conscious of his body heat against her back, and the faint scent of him – cologne, soap, detergent – and tried to steel herself. _Means nothing, him getting so close,_ she said to herself. _He’s toying with me, or he really doesn’t understand what effect he has on me. Most likely the former, though, knowing him._

 

But then something happened which short-circuited all her thought processes. He moved forward even further, so that their bodies were touching, and she felt his warm breath caress her ear as he leaned into her and said, “You like me.”

 

She tried to unobtrusively drop her hands to the counter, propping herself up, as her knees wanted to give way again….but this time, she was going to do her damndest to react to him as little as possible. Or at the very least, not make it _evident_ that she was reacting to him. _Don’t give him ammunition,_ she told herself, trying to ignore the fact that she was trembling, that she could feel herself starting to sweat.

 

Mastering her voice, she threw his statement back at him. “Why do you care?”

 

He chuckled, and the sound seemed to go right through her. Thank God she wasn’t facing him, the thought of those crystalline blue eyes, peeling her open and dissecting her, was utterly unbearable.

 

He shifted even closer, if that was possible, and said into her ear. “I don’t.” She watched bemused as he leaned his cane up against the counter beside her. And then she started as she felt his hands on her waist.

 

Her hands gripped the counter even tighter, her legs trembling even more as she felt his hands slide down a little, gathering up the bottom of her lab coat, and slowly pulling it up between their bodies.

 

 _What the hell is happening? What is he doing?_ Panicked questions were circling around in her brain, and she fought the whimper forming in her throat, the rising tide of heat in her chest and face. Still trying to hide her reaction from him, but it was a losing battle….

 

Having bunched the fabric of her lab coat up at her waist, House then tucked it between them. There was a long pause, and Allison felt beads of sweat rolling down her sides, could feel her heart pounding in her chest and temples.

 

When he leaned into her again, and she felt his hands starting to gather her skirt in the same fashion, she realized she _had_ to get away. If she stayed, she’d give in to him, and the thought of him mocking her submission, or even worse, continuing his cold, detached routine, even after taking her – no, she couldn’t bear that.

 

She tried to twist herself out of his hands, tried to slide along the counter and away. But it was impossible. He was, as always, surprisingly quick for a ‘cripple’, and he grabbed her upper arms before she could even try to move away from him. His grip on her was tight, almost painful, and she realized belatedly how strong he really was. Which only made the heat in her flare up even higher.

 

Pinned again, she could do nothing. She felt him lean to her ear once more. “Where’s the fire, Dr. Cameron?” Faint mockery in his voice.

 

 _In my pants,_ she thought, but didn’t say. And again she tried to break free.

 

“Stop.” he said, his voice rasping and deeper than normal. And she did, because when he got that note in his voice, she always found herself obeying him.

 

He released his tight grip on her, sliding his hands down her arms, and then he placed her hands back on the counter, wrapping her fingers around the edge.

 

“Don’t move.” he ordered her. She felt his hands on the back of her head, carefully loosening her bun. Moments later, he was combing his fingers through her hair, loosening it so that it lay free down her back. And then she felt him pulling her lab coat up again, until he could once more tuck it up and out of the way.

 

He started pulling up her skirt, as before, and she could do nothing, only stand there and feel him sliding the fabric up, millimeter by millimeter, along her legs. Her bared skin chilled by the cool air in the lab, yet also warmed by his flesh so close to hers.

 

It felt like it took hours, but eventually she felt him tucking her skirt fabric up and between them. There was another pause, and then she felt his warm, long-fingered hands on her thighs, stroking the bare skin just above the tops of her stay-up stockings. And she found herself unable to keep from whimpering, from pressing back against him. He leaned his head down, licking a long wet line along the side of her neck, his stubble scraping against her, his fingers continuing to trace small patterns on her inner thighs.

 

She lost all track of time, as he continued to stroke her thighs, to lick and nibble and nip at neck and throat and collarbone, to let his scruff rub against her skin. She felt like she was floating, dissolving. Could this really be happening? Could all her fantasies about her boss be coming true, at last?

 

His hands slipped up onto her ass, and he brushed his fingertips along the edges of her thong underwear for a moment. Her skin burned wherever he touched, and she pressed back against him again, moaning when she momentarily felt the warm bulge in his jeans pressing against her tailbone, hearing his breath catch at the contact.

 

Easing her slightly forward again, House hooked his fingers under the back of her thong and tugged on it a few times, and Allison groaned deeply as the fabric was rubbed across her clit by his actions. House then pulled the thong to the side, baring her most sensitive flesh to the cool air, and an image flashed in her head, of what they must look like together, her clothes bunched up between them, his cane dangling from the desk, and their bodies sandwiched together in front of the microscope, reflecting darkly in the glass walls of the lab.

 

She felt his hands gently urging her legs further apart, and she complied, struggling to keep her balance on her high-heeled shoes. His fingers brushed lightly against her, between her legs, and she moaned again, feeling his fingertips slide through her slick wetness.

 

She closed her eyes and arched her back, pressing her ass back against him, but instead of giving her more, she felt his caresses stop.

 

An instant later, he was touching her again, but it felt strange. Instead of warm, soft fingertips, long fingers, and callused palms prying her open and exploring her, she felt something smooth and hard and slightly warm sliding back and forth between her folds, and her eyes shot open as she realized he was using the handle of his cane to tease her.

 

His breath caressed her ear again as he leaned in to say, “Don’t worry, I washed my hands and the handle of my cane thoroughly before I came in….Trust me, I’m a doctor.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

 

She tried to reply, but couldn’t even order a sentence, distracted by the feel of her clit sliding along the polished wood. The handle was also stroking along the entrance to her body at the same time, and she could feel House’s knuckles brushing against the tender insides of her thighs, as his hand guided the strokes of the cane.

 

She would never have believed it could happen with someone using a _cane_ on her, but she found herself rapidly approaching orgasm. Heart racing, skin soaked with sweat, her breaths coming fast and hard, moaning…

 

But House apparently had other plans, as he suddenly pulled his cane from between her thighs. “Don’t move.” he told her again, and she heard the thump and scrape of him moving away from her. Cold without his heat against her, she stood gripping the counter and shaking, suddenly afraid he was going to leave her here like this, vulnerable and needy.

 

He was still in the room with her, though, so she forced herself to calm her fears. And then she heard wheels rolling, and realized he had grabbed the chair from the other side of the lab, and was wheeling himself back towards her.

 

She felt him take hold of her again, pulling her hips back and forcing her to bend over. Her clothing had fallen down over her ass and legs while they had been separated, and she felt him pushing these barriers back out of the way. And then she gasped loudly as she felt his mouth on her, the tip of his tongue circling the soaking wet entrance to her vagina, his stubble scraping against her labia.

 

He pushed his tongue deeply inside her a few times, and then his fingers spread her folds wide as his tongue moved up in search of her clit. The contrast between hot wet tongue, soft lips, and sandpapery stubble alone would have been enough to fry every brain cell she possessed, but he was also expertly manipulating her clit as well, alternately sucking on it and flicking it sharply with his tongue…and when he pushed two fingers inside her while continuing to tease her in this fashion, she came hard, her body shaking and her knees finally giving way completely, all thought broken up into meaningless shards…

 

As she came back to herself, she realized she was perched on House’s good thigh, still facing away from him, and shaking in reaction. House said behind her, in an amused voice, “Just more proof that the chicks _really_ dig the hardwood.” Though whether he was referring to his earlier trick with the cane, or to the hard hot bulge she could feel pressing against her, she couldn’t have said.

 

She started to turn and look at him - although the thought of meeting his penetrating gaze still made her nervous, she wasn’t going to chicken out this time, she told herself - but again he took hold of her, putting her back into her original position.

 

“But-” she spluttered, wanting to return the favour, or, at the very least, to undo his fly and touch him.

 

“We’re not done, Dr. Cameron. And I still outrank you, so you have to listen to me. You wouldn’t want me to complain to Vogler, would you?...Mind you, not that I’d know what to complain to him about.”

 

House let his voice trail off, and she heard the creak of the chair and the soft squeak of his Shox on the floor as he levered himself back up to a standing position.

 

He once again shoved her clothes out of the way. There was the soft rasp of a zipper being pulled down and the rustle of clothing, and then she felt him, hot and incredibly hard against her.

 

He rubbed himself against her for a few moments, and then there was a long pause. He pulled back from her for a moment, and before she could ask him what he was doing or dare to look over her shoulder, he said to her, “Give me a minute. These lubricated condoms can be a real bitch to get on....not to mention, I’m a bit rusty.”

 

Finding her voice, she quipped, “Do you always visit labs at night carrying condoms, Dr. House?” Casually, like she wasn’t standing here half-naked in a PPTH lab, having just had an earth-shaking orgasm at the hands of her boss…and his cane.

 

He gave out a soft chuckle, and she wanted suddenly to look him in the face very badly, to see if there was any affection or tenderness in those cerulean eyes, like she thought she was hearing in his laugh...but she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to allow her to turn around.

 

“Not usually, no. When I feel the need to jump the bones of my employees late at night in labs, I usually just visit the men’s washroom. They’ve got condom dispensers in there, you know.”

 

She was about to reply, but was distracted by House pressing himself against her once more, his hard smooth latex-sheathed cock sliding between her legs to stroke her swollen flesh.

 

His left hand was tight on her hip, holding her in place, and she imagined the other had to be on his penis, guiding its movements as the head of his cock rubbed small circles on her clit.

 

Again, time slipped by unnoticed, before he finally seemed to have had enough of tormenting her, and he shoved into her in one hard thrust that forced all the air out of her lungs in a gasp, and made her head reel.

 

If she had expected a hard fast ride, though, he surprised her. After his rough initial thrust, he slowed down, his movements inside her becoming slow, long, gentle....

 

His left hand was still on her hip, but she felt his other hand slide under the bottom of her sweater. It took a slow, caressing path up her belly and along her ribs, and then his fingertips were gently circling her areola through the thin lace material of her bra. She gasped and pushed her nipple harder into his hand, and was rewarded when he pinched it gently.

 

He didn’t seem satisfied with this, though, as moments later he roughly grabbed the cup of her bra and yanked it down, exposing her nipple, which he then commenced to tweak in time with his thrusts inside her, which were getting stronger by the minute.

 

She felt like she was burning up, all her senses focused on what he was doing to her. It felt like every individual nerve ending inside her was being caressed with every thrust of his cock, and his hand roughly teasing her nipple only jacked her temperature up further. She couldn’t stop the moans and gasps coming out of her mouth, and found herself fighting his grip on her hip, wanting to push back against him, as if he could get any deeper inside her than he already was.

 

Finally, she felt his hand leave her hip, leaving her free to push back against him, but apparently he wanted even more of her, as she felt his hand slide between her legs again, fingertips arrowing in on the hard, swollen little bud of her clit...

 

She was drowning in sensation, unable to process everything that was happening to her, and she could feel her orgasm barreling towards her….House was thrusting harder and harder inside her, impacting against her womb, and somehow he was still teasing her nipple and her clit even in his frenzy…

 

Suddenly he said, in a low guttural growl, “Allison!”, and stopped dead as he emptied himself into the condom, inside her.

 

Whether it was the fact he had finally used her first name, or the feeling of him pulsing inside her, she could not have said, but she climaxed again, allowing herself to answer him. “Greg!” And then she was drowning once again….

 

Allison sat bolt upright in bed. She was hot, soaked in sweat, wet and swollen between her legs, and….alone. It took her a few moments to realize what had happened. _Goddamn it, that whole thing was just a dream? The female version of a wet dream?_

She put her face into her hands, trying not to cry in frustration. _Shit. This means nothing’s resolved. I get to go on loving him, and he gets to continue pushing me away and mocking me._ _What the hell am I going to do? How long can I put up with this? Maybe I should just quit…._

 


End file.
